


As You Wish

by minyardmonster



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Cats, Early thirties, Fluff, M/M, Probably ooc, Slice of Life, The Princess Bride - Freeform, domestic life, enagement, listen, no beta we die like men, propsal, self indulgence tbfh with you, there is no plot here just fluff, theyre in their late twenties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/pseuds/minyardmonster
Summary: Having earned Neil’s full attention now he presses several kisses up his thigh, stopping to briefly  bury his face in his boyfriend’s stomach before propping himself up over him. “You seem a decent fellow," Andrew feels the faint pull of a smile against his lips as he speaks, getting ready to attack. "I hate to kill you."Neil immediately understands, eyes widening before he attempts to dart away, but Andrew is quick to pin him down. Neil tenses beneath him as he speaks, ready for the onslaught he knows is coming. “You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die.”-Or 2K of Andrew and Neil quoting The Princess Bride at each other while they adjust to daily domestic life.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 13
Kudos: 285





	As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [5a5b5p5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5a5b5p5/gifts).



> This is entirely self indulgence because sometimes you gotta write cute ooc things to feel a little better about the state of the world. Any quotes used from the novel will be written in italics.  
> As always, cheers Ash for encouraging me to write this kind of stuff.  
> Sorry in advance if people highlighting, annotating, folding pages and book spines causes you great distress, because Andrew bends tf out of his copy of the book.  
> For the sake of the story, the cats have different names. There are also four of them.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

_The Princess Bride_ was Andrew Minyard’s favourite novel. Not that that was something he would ever admit to outloud, the concept of even having a favourite _anything_ made him vaguely uncomfortable and his skin itch. Still, it wasn’t exactly difficult to work out that he deeply appreciated the novel. He’d had the same copy since he was twelve, having nicked it from one a local library, and much like himself it was tattered and bruised but still going strong. The spine was permanently curled inwards, leaving the first hundred pages of the book curled and lifted. A bookmark was absolutely necessary when reading, but only because almost every page had been dogeared at some point in the past and the method could no longer be used as a relied upon method to keep his place. The book was also heavily annotated, passages highlighted, Andrew’s cramped handwriting squeezed into the border’s of the book. It was a book that was very clearly loved. 

It was also the first thing he’d unpacked after moving into a shared apartment with Neil. They’d been together so long now, Andrew didn’t have enough fingers on his hands to count the years, but only recently had they been signed to the same team, meaning they could _finally_ share a space. Share a _home._ Neil had watched, in the way that he always did when Andrew was involved, as Andrew placed the battered book on their bedside table. It could not be further away from the bookshelf in the lounge room, and it could not be closer to Andrew. 

So on the first night they spent in bed together in a home that was theirs, Neil curled into Andrew’s side and asked him to read it to him. Neil had expected some kind of quip from Andrew about him being too stupid to read it himself, but instead he just sighed, pulled out his reading glasses, and picked up his copy from where it sat on the bedside table.

“ _The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.”_ Andrew’s voice had always been a source of comfort for Neil, but there was something particularly special about hearing him read something he so clearly enjoyed. While his voice remained the same monotone, Neil did not miss the quirk of Andrew’s lips when a character was particularly exasperating, he read like he was coming home. Like he had never left. 

This then started a tradition that lasted until they had worked their way through the entirety of the book, where at least once a week Andrew would read fifty or so pages to Neil, and Neil would try to peek at the annotations on the page. While Andrew was touched his boyfriend cared enough to listen to him read his favourite novel, he had not expected it to genuinely peak the ginger’s interest the way it did, until eventually _The Princess Bride_ stopped just being Andrew’s and started being theirs.

The back and forth quotation of the book very quickly became a sort of in joke between them, an almost every day occurrence. The first time it happens Andrew is almost taken by surprise, if surprise was something he could be taken by. The jeans he’d been planning on wearing out to his weekly dinner date with Neil were covered almost entirely in white cat fur, rendering them unwearable. Holding up Fezzik, the offending white cat in question, Andrew put on his firmest voice while maintaining eye contact. “Stop taking naps on my clothes. What a pain.”

“ _Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.”_ Neil’s smirk is all but audible from across the room, where he’s pulling on his own cat fur free jeans. 

Something heavy settles in the pit of Andrew’s stomach. It’s warm and blooms outwards until he’s warm all over. If he is being honest with himself, he didn’t think Neil would remember when he’d told him how much he enjoyed Westly’s blasé sarcasm the first time he’d read the book. It is overwhelming to know Neil had, in fact, committed this fact to memory. It is overwhelming to be so known.

Andrew doesn’t say any of this though. Instead he waits until Neil is passing him to exit their bedroom, probably in search of a clean dress shirt, and says; “Get me a clean pair of jeans from the laundry.”

Neil shoots him a cheeky grin from over his shoulder. “ _As you wish.”_

Andrew does not blush, but he does scramble to get hold of a pillow to throw at Neil as he laughs and leaves the room.

-

The second occurrence had involved their cats, of all things. Andrew had been trying to herd Fezzik, Buttercup and Westly into the bathroom for their monthly flea and worming treatment, but Inigo was nowhere to be found. He finished with the other three, having suffered only the one well aimed cat scratch from Buttercup, and set out in search of the ginger tabby cat. Suspiciously, the other household ginger was also missing in action. 

Despite Andrew having told him countless times that it was in the best interest of the cats health, Neil hated having to worm and flea the animals, solely because _they_ hated it. So, really, it was no surprise to find Neil hauled up in the closet of their spare bedroom making a valiant effort to keep Inigo restrained in his lap. In the end, he did not put up much of a fight when Andrew bent down to pluck the tabby from his boyfriend’s now torn up arms.

“ _You are trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen, and I think it quite ungentlemanly_.” Neil seemed quite smug with himself, and Andrew, who had now acquired what he’d come in for, rolled his eyes and shut the closet door on Neil. Still, it took him several moments to get his heartbeat back under control. Neil and his stupid memory was going to be the death of him one day.

-

The third time it happens, Andrew has what is, in his opinion, the worst case of the flu he’s ever had. He blames his old age as he adds another tissue to the growing pile by his bed, the only silver lining is that he doesn’t have to play Exy until he’s better. Well, that’s not entirely true, Neil looking after him was also a lovely experience. Andrew would never admit to this out loud, though.

Neil had also been ordered off court, lest he catch whatever Andrew had and infect the entire team. This meant he had an abundance of time to worry over Andrew. He’d tried making the blonde soup, at first, but Andrew had turned his nose up at it. He wasn't a fussy eater by any means, Neil’s cooking was just often best left uncooked and far, far away from the kitchen. Accepting defeat he returned with a pint of _Ben and Jerrys_ and a spoon and set up Andrew’s pillows so he could lay in bed and watch the film adaption of _The Princess Bride_ while he shovelled ice cream into his mouth. 

Neither Neil or Andrew were very movie oriented people, but Andrew could begrudgingly admit that this adaptation had been done remarkably well. Besides, Cary Elwes as Westly wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, either. It didn’t take long for Andrew to polish off the ice cream he’d been given, shuffling down under the covers and curling into Neil’s side with a sniffle. All four of the cats had also joined them, seemingly summoned by their onscreen namesakes, and curled up on top of Andrew’s legs.

The weight and warmth the cats added did very little to help Andrew’s drooping eyes as he leant further into Neil’s side. Eyes shut now, he felt the man in question gently remove his glasses, brush the hair from his sweaty forehead and gently place a kiss there.

Neil’s voice was quite as he spoke; “ _G_ _ood night, Andrew. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.”_

-

After that, the tables turned. Andrew had had enough, and was more than ready to dish out as good as he got. Him and Neil were spread out across the length of their couch, all but laying on top of one another. After years spent with Neil pressed against his side Andrew no longer flinched at his touch, no longer needed to be warned or asked before it happened. The two of them existed idly in their own versions of _it’s always yes with you._ However, being so entirely comfortable with someone did also present its own risks, just not the kind either of them were accustomed too.

Those risks where, of course, the threat of being tickled and loud, wet, raspberries blown on any and all exposed skin. Neil’s shirt was rucked up, exposing the tan skin of his stomach, exposing _fair game._ Andrew, ever the embodiment of chaos, shifts slowly and deliberately until his torso is slotted between Neil’s legs. The striker is in gym shorts, and if Andrew hadn’t already made his mind up, they would be _very_ inviting. 

Having earned Neil’s full attention now he presses several kisses up his thigh, stopping to briefly bury his face in his boyfriend’s stomach before propping himself up over him. _“You seem a decent fellow,"_ A ndrew feels the faint pull of a smile against his lips as he speaks, getting ready to attack. _"I hate to kill you."_

Neil immediately understands, eyes widening before he attempts to dart away, but Andrew is quick to pin him down. Neil tenses beneath him as he speaks, ready for the onslaught he knows is coming. “ _You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die.”_

And then Andrew is pressing his mouth against Neil’s skin again, this time hot and open mouthed, blowing loud and wet raspberries against the scarred expanse. Neil shrieks beneath him, limbs excessively responsive beneath Andrew. He manages a handful more before Neil’s laughter induced thrashing knocks them both off the couch and into a tangle of limbs on the floor. Neil is quick to pin Andrew to the floor in return, arms above his head and hips pinned beneath strong thighs.

There was a time where being confined like this would have made panic consume Andrew whole, but now he only feels love, feels known and adored and cared for by the men grinning down at him.

“I win.” Neil pants, out of breath.

 _“Inconceivable.”_ Andrew does not mean for this to be whisper, but Neil’s smile softens all the same. He bends down to press a kiss to Andrew’s neck, relishing in the shiver that runs down the blonde’s body.

“ _I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”_

-

Andrew’s favourite occurrence though, comes one warm summer night. They’d driven out to a dark and secluded area, climbing onto the hood of the maserati to watch the stars. He can feel Neil’s eyes on him, which he thinks is absolutely ridiculous, since he’d been the one to complain about the light pollution back in the city. 

“Staring.” He mumbles, reaching out to push Neil’s face away but the other man is quick to catch his wrist and place a gentle kiss against the inside of Andrew’s wrist. Something snags inside Andrew’s chest and he can’t bring himself to turn and look at the adoration in Neil’s eyes, he’s not sure he could be held responsible for his actions afterwards.

“Andrew,” Neil mumbles against Andrew’s wrist. It’s followed by silence, but it’s clear Neil has more he wants to say. That he’s shifting through his thoughts, cautious of the words he wants to deliver. Andrew could have been given a millennia to prepare himself for what Neil decided upon, and he still would not have been ready. “ _I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I love you. Spell it out, should I? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I.”_

It’s Andrew’s favourite passage in the book, highlighted a hundred times over. He knows what words are scribbled in the margin next to it, the doodlings of a future he never fully believed he would be allowed to have. Neil says nothing more, just presses something small and round into the palm of Andrew’s hand. He keeps his hand fisted close to his chest for a long while, and Neil does not hurry him along, shows no sign of his usual impatience, just goes back to silently watching the stars.

When he does open his hand, though, Andrew is not surprised to find a simple silver engagement ring there, but finds all the air in his lungs leaves him anyway. Slowly, he presses the ring, the promise, to his lips. 

“ _Yes.”_ He breaths out against it.

-

Andrew is not sure how he has found himself here. For the fourth night in a row his husband is curled into his side as he reads from a copy of _The Princess Bride_ that by all means should now be held together with duct tape. He reads and Neil listens, and Andrew does his best not to stare at the matching wedding bands they both wear, have worn, for many years.

 _“Buttercup looked at him. “Oh my Westly, so do I.”_ Andrew closes the book as he finishes, setting it back on its rightful place beside their bed. They’re finished for now, their current read through wrapped up. There’s no telling when the next one will happen, they’re sporadic at best, but always seem to occur when they’re most needed.

Andrew is not sentimental in nature, there are only a few things he holds dear, and all those things know of their importance to him, they are by no means secret. But he can’t help but think about the twelve year old boy who had stolen that novel, face bruised and wrists bleeding, wishing he was the Dread Pirate Roberts, someone who people feared and no one would dare ever hurt. He hopes that kid is happy knowing that he ended up being Buttercup instead, but at least he’d found his Westly, too. 

Neil speaks, and pulls Andrew from where he’s gotten lost in thought. “ _This is probably my favourite book in the whole world_ ,” Neil humms, tucked into Andrew’s side. “ _Though, I’ve never read it_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read The Princess Bride I highly recommend it!! It's my favourite book, like, ever. I live in constant search of an original publication. If books aren't really your thing, though, the movie isn't too shabby. (It's actually absolutely fantastic and should also be viewed as frequently as possible)


End file.
